


between the night, between the day

by dinEli



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Human, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Language, F/M, Homophobic Language, McCall Family Feels, Mean People?, Prejudice, Racism, Trans Character, Transphobia, alternative universe, and people are mean, girl!Isaac, please let me know if there's any other tag i should put, they're both teenagers trying to figure themselves out, to tag is such a hard thing ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinEli/pseuds/dinEli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is never a time that is not right.</p><p>(Kind of "different worlds collide AU".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just words, it's just words right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I'm trying a new style of writing. So tell me if it's working!  
> Both the summary and the title are from the song "between the night, between the day", from Rosi Golan and Tim Myers.
> 
> Enjoy your reading :D

He didn't want to go. He thought to himself.

_I don't want to go. To leave my city. My friends. The life we've built._

He and his mom. They'd _built_ a very stable life there. They had worked hard. And it seemed like it was it.

They've found their place.

Then came the proposal.

Rich politician, clipped words, imperious tone, didn't touch any furniture. Fake politeness. His wife was sick, dying, he had to pay for a nurse. She didn't want to leave their house. They had two sons.

 _One boy is a winner. The other is a pussy_ , he said.

It made him frown, but he eventually shrugged it off. His mom said the money was _better_ , exactly what they needed to get out of the middle, and the woman really needed an experienced nurse, she needed help. Details. Specifics.

(They could maybe lighten up the mood, make her feel better in her last days.

Maybe they could help.)

It's not like they were _bothered_ by the middle. But they had a plan. He and his mom. They had a plan, a mission; they were a team, and they had a mission. It was to leave the middle, if one day they found the chance to.

And that poor sick politician's wife was it.

In that big mansion of theirs.

Only the pathway to their entry was already half the size of their old town. Someone opened a door for them. A man, dressed in a tux, small smile on his face. Fake politeness.

He didn't want to live there. _I can't live here_. His mom was an optimist. Always has been. And he was too.

But they _had_ built their own lives. By themselves.

They were optimist.

(Well, _maybe we still are._ )

She smiled at him that small, encouraging smile of hers. To which he replied by holding her hand in his. Small, bigger.

 _We're a team_ , it said.

Truth be told, he would follow her anywhere.

\--

He was organizing his clothes on his drawer. The room they've put him in was way bigger than his previous one, with larger windows and brighter colors. It was comfortable and he was thankful for that.

For the comfort.

His mom was directed straight to the politician's wife's room.

Her name was Ellen. She was 52. The details of her disease his mom wasn't comfortable with sharing. She never liked to talk about her patients out of their reach, without their knowledge. He admired her for that.

A lot.

But Ellen, she didn't want to stay at the hospital. She wanted to die at her home. Alongside her family.

This is where it gets sadder.

Ellen's family was _amiss_. This his mom could tell him. Warn him. She knew all about them, about how bad the politician wanted to hide them from the public's view.

It makes you think, really. On how the unity of _family_ doesn't depend on money or power. It's about love.

 _That_ , his mom had said, _we have so much we can even_ -

 _Give a little_ , he had completed.

He always thought love was the easiest thing to give.

For it is what we want the most, what our souls seek.

_He could never understand when it was denied._

He sighed mid folding one of his jeans. He was a meddler. This could be a problem; and that was why his mom had alerted him about the politician's family.

 _We slip in only up to where they let us, honey_ , she had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more, I swear. I'm sorry for the language, but I want to keep it as realistic as it goes.  
> Also, I'll post it as it comes, 'cos I'm totally insecure about the whole thing, and it's long lol  
> Anyway, tell me what you thought of it.
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though we'll never understand why it has to be this way; it just is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying this new style; in which I write less trying to say more. Hope it's working [winks]
> 
> Enjoy your reading!

That house should be haunted, at least. It was too fucking big and it had too many rooms, too many dark corners. She would never get used to it, even though it was _theirs_ since she was a child. It wasn't hers. So the shadows by the edges, that grew as the sun set, sometimes they scared her.

She wished it was ghosts. It should be. That was what she would tell her friends. _My house is haunted, I don't like it._

It was the- _It was._

(Swallow.)

It was the sleepless nights, the reason she had to explain something. She was too pale and the dark circles under her eyes looked even darker.

She had fun creating stories and explanations to her body. About her body.

 _God, she hated her body_. It went against her in every possible-

The lights of the kitchen were on. There was some chewing. And some scribbling.

It was her water-fridge-watching moment. The only time she could actually walk around the house _freely_.

Sort of.

He didn't notice her noticing, too focused on his- _studying?_

 _Who the hell studies at three am?_ , she didn't realize she had said that out loud. And the boy looked up, scared, cereal dripping off his mouth.

A crease by the right side of his mouth appeared, and somehow his eyes caught the lights from above and reflected them. She stood agape. And he swallowed his cereal, loudly.

 _I'm sorry_ , he said. _Did I scare you?_

Attentive eyes. That's what caught the lights. His entire face was turned towards her, standing stiff by the door, his elbows on the table, the pen still hanging from his fingers.

 (Swallow.)

Both went their own way. He went back to scribbling. She went straight for the fridge. Not self-conscious. Not blushing. Not-

_I don't think we were introduced...?_

She drank her water, swallowing hard.

 _I'm Isaac_ , she said around a gulp, cringing, wincing. She should have been braver.

She should have added-

His eyes danced and his right eyebrow was slightly uplifted. The slightest bit. Maybe it was strange that she had noticed. That she had paid attention.

_You're Mr. Lahey's son?_

(Swallow.)

(Son? _Son?!_ )

She snorted, and the water went the wrong way.

 _Oh, shit_ , she coughed and spilt the rest of the liquid on the floor. He raised from his chair and in a second was by her side, patting her shoulder-blades. His hands were careful, but his eyes-

His eyes were dancing again. They reflected the lights, and they were brown.

And kind of endless. But she wasn't thinking about that.

 _Wrong pipe?_ , he said around a grin.

His left hand was big and soft on her back, and she was all too aware of her bare pale legs.

They itched. They felt heavy.

_I'm Scott, by the way... ? My mom is the nurse who's taking care of yours._

Then his smile was sad and apologetic.

She felt lightheaded.

 --

At school. One foot in front of the other.

From her own skin to her loose jeans; it didn't fit.

The hallway was full of teenagers. And the girls thinking she was handsome, blinking and flirting; with their skirts and dresses and fancy blouses.

Pink. Light. Easy.

She was blue.

_She's blue._

_(She was wearing panties. They were red and small. It gave her this- feeling. To her stomach. This tremble of happiness; it felt like something that was only hers.)_

To be honest, she wished she was braver.

At school. They would call her _bro_ and _man_ and _boy_ and say _he's so cute isn't he_.

She'd wink and hate them. Smirk and praise them. To then drag them down. Fool them. Play with them.

She had broken a few hearts. But she had also had her own broken so many times.

So she didn't feel that bad about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is Isaac. 
> 
> I do believe their starting points have been introduced, and they're pretty understandable.  
> I don't know, I feel good about this; but please tell me if I shouldn't be! :)  
> See you,
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just words, it's just words right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for racist situations.
> 
> And enjoy your reading :)

He was proud of who he was. Of what he'd achieved in life.

For example, at 17, he had accumulated enough money to buy his own dirt bike.

Autonomy, independency. No cycling-suffered-lungs.

He was also the only non-white kid in his new school; and even the teacher couldn't hide her surprise at meeting him on AP Biology.

It made his skin crawl.

Walking on the hallways, he was the fly on the milk. Impossible not to spot, not to find.

Not to scrutinize.

He thought that they had expected him to hide.

They sure seemed to want him to get away. Or to get too close.

It was so unnatural he almost felt inhuman. With their tone and looks.

And their body language.

And the way they scratched _GET BACK TO MEXICO CHICA_ on the side of his dirt bike.

Well, at least they didn't break it.

\--

First she had picked a few jeans and tees from the boys' section.

Then she had passed by the beauty shelves, seeming to look for sunglasses, or maybe a perfume for a girlfriend.

She even had asked herself, out loud _Um, maybe she will like this one_. Smiled at an old lady picking eyeliners.

At last, she found herself inside one of the dressing room stalls.

Her chest was trembling and her cheeks were flushed.

_She was also excited. Fearful. Giggly._

She uncapped it, rolled the cylinder inside, slowly, carefully.

The color was red.

_She's red._

A bit forcefully, she pressed the tip of it on her lower lip. From middle to right and left sides, feeling the friction between the material and her chapped lip.

To make it easier, she licked her lips, trying again. This time gentler, drawing their small uplifted curve.

Then she pursed both lips, advertently applying some of it on her upper one.

_Still focused on her mouth only, not looking at her own eyes._

She delineated the form of her upper lip. Slowly, gently. Making sure they were wet enough that the friction wouldn't get in the way.

Lastly, she pursed her lips one last time. Releasing them with one low pop that seemed to reverberate in her entire being.

Like a Champagne being opened.

A celebration.

When she looked up. When she saw herself.

The red from her lips was a beautiful contrast to the white of her teeth.

She bought two T-shirts with skateboarders and random numbers on it, the lipstick heavy inside her pocket.

Yet, she felt weightless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last scene with Isaac and the lipstick has definitely become one of my favorites. It hits really close to my heart, for I've been through almost the same situation and [sighs]. No encounters today, but I hope you've liked it anyway lol  
> Take care,
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get out, get out of your head!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic and racist remarks. Also, enjoy your reading!

She was the tallest of her group. Her clique. It made her feel powerful, rather than awkward and gangly, sometimes. That she could see everybody else from above.

Her eyes were judgmental and her tongue was poisonous. The halls and the rooms and the sidewalks and the streets. The coffee shops. The benches. They were hers.

They owned the town.

 _They owned her_.

Lately, they had been picking up on the new kid. The boy whose mother was assisting hers. They said he was too quiet and _sweet_ and probably a _fag_ ; for he didn't hit on girls or speak louder than necessary.

His voice was the softest she's ever heard. And his eyes the gentlest.

And they danced.

There was also the way his skin looked under the sun. Shining with sweat, and tanned-

Which was another reason. He wasn't _white_. His clothes were old and used.

It could be felt, this difference.

They would circle him during lunch time, mumble shit in Spanish, ask for his green card.

She would feel too big, on the spotlight. She hated being tall then and there; as his eyes landed on her, silent and heavy communication.

One day, she made a joke, riled up by her clique, by her world, the world she owned. It was stupid- he stared sharply, his eyes round. He picked up his material and food. He walked out. His shoulders stiff.

Her world owned her.

And sometimes she felt small inside of it.

\--

He hated all of it. The walls, the stairs, the enormous amount of windows, and chandeliers. The people in uniform he'd come to know, but were still indifferent.

The indifference. The coldness.

He hated it- that apathetic house. Dead, soulless.

Blue. Dim.

It wasn't even the silence that bugged him, he thought, standing there after another shitty day at school.

There were sounds. Behind the innumerous doors and walls. But they were whispered, hushed.

 _It's almost as if it's hunted_ , he told himself, too caught up on his muses to notice it. Until he heard a snicker behind him.

 _That's exactly what I tell myself every day_ , the boy, Isaac. His eyes wrinkled on their edges as he laughed. He reminded him of a child. Ran a hand through his hair, cheeks red. Disheveled. Embarrassed.

He forced a small smile, tried not to be rude to a boy whose- whose problems he didn't know. Whose house he was _using_ , whose life he was invading. But also not giving- being careful.

Stiles had always said he gave too much, and then had his heart broken.

He didn't show his teeth. Close-lipped smile. Barely using his eyes. Arms holding his chest.

Closed, not close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, it is short, but that's the purpose, so [shrugs]. I'm sorry about Scott calling Isaac a "he", or a "boy", but Isaac did introduce herself as the politician's /son/, so it's impossible for him to know ): Hope I get to write more, and hope someone likes it lol
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the clarity we see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for language and slight sexual content.
> 
> Enjoy your reading!

Her skin felt tight- deliciously glued to her bones.

Dizzy.

She had positioned a body mirror in front of her bed, so as she could see it.

Long pale legs stretched wide, orange lace panties, hard sharp angles and a hand that couldn't stop moving.

Lipsticked red lips bitten, wet and hanging lose, as if not able to hold themselves.

Eyes fixed on her own image, dazed, glassy with an arousal that felt too heavy to be contained.

She saw pretty. She felt pretty.

She also imagined.

That he would come to her, all shaped thighs and broad shoulders- _thrust, bite, moan_.

Smudge her make up, mess her blonde hair, push, nick. Lick.

His pink mouth on her pale stomach, chest, hips. The inside of- _thrust_.

Slowly.

Her long nails, colored in the purple she had found inside one of the maid's bathroom, scratching his back. His skin.

His bones. Her bones.

His strong body on her own. She would feel small, tiny, fragile. His brown eyes shining. Dancing. Adoring her features.

Breathing _you're so pretty_.

She threw her head back, moaning softly, body limp. Sated.

But _oh_ , his tongue on her neck. On her pulse point. His smile on her cheeks. His dimples.

She sighed, closed her eyes. Breathed out, laughed hysterically. Then giggled.

Blushing, feeling pretty.

Feeling pink.

\--

He had decided he liked the town coffee shop.

All he had to do was hide close to the restrooms, during the few hours into the evening right after his shift, hunched over his homework.

And if he frowned enough, there was this blond girl who always took her off time at 7pm, let her long curly hair down.

Offered him a cup of black coffee.

 _On the house_ , her wink would say.

Once, she had helped him with his Spanish paper, rambling about her Mexican mother and Canadian father.

_She ran away with some random chick a coupa' years ago. Poor guy had to stay._

Oh, he knew how that went.

The bailing part.

 _I'm sorry_.

She had made a dismissive gesture with her hand, eyes mischievous.

_I don't care. Good for her. Have some orgasms. Dad's a sissy anyway._

He had frowned at her bluntness, her rudeness; she had shrugged, and the topic died.

Yet he understood she was just repeating the usual, the common thought.

What they were made to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... This was a little more different than anything I've ever written. And now we've got Erica! Yay! Also, tell me what are your thoughts on this one; I'd love to hear them!
> 
> Take care,
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the bittersweetest way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I think.

Only after three months did they give his mom an entire day off.

Ellen, the lady she was taking care of, seemed to now be able to stay sit on the mansion's balcony for more than twenty minutes without feeling ill.

It both saddened him and made him content, this occurrence.

For he could almost imagine her.

Cupped up inside her bed, inside her covers, inside her pale and colorless skin.

To then to be saved by these shreds of sunlight.

_We all deserve some blinding heat, some blazing glow._

So he decided to take his mom out.

He made it his mission to treat her, to make her smile the brightest, the widest.

To pay her the best ice cream in town- on him, on his small income.

To watch her flushed and sun washed face brighten up by his silly jokes, and the townsfolk-trivia he had been gathering over the past few months.

He made sure to only share the funny, quirky stories. Never the sad, embarrassing, angering ones.

Was it terrible that he already had too many?

She was out of the shadows, so he was going to give her only light.

It was a pleasantly sunny day, and he spent it thanking the weather and the clouds.

Thanking the people for being polite, the wind for blowing just right.

But he also- he specially took her hand, he showed her his workplace, his favorite square to study at, even the town coffee shop.

Although his usual partner had also decided to take a day off, he still told his mom about her. Turning her stories into soft, chuckle-inducing tales.

Right when the day was turning into night, her eyes were shining.

Her feet were almost cheerful on the sidewalk, her hands draped around his arm, and his heart was soaring.

That's when he saw them.

And they saw him.

She didn't know what it meant- how could she? Since arriving, they had only let her see sickness and dim corners.

He did. He flinched. He avoided. He tried to look anywhere else.

_Look, mom, didn't you say you wanted a new purse for- I don't know, I remember you said-_

It was too late.

For him, the phrases meant nothing.

They were just- phrases. Jumbled words, white noise.

His mom, though. He saw it then, the fierce burn in her eyes, the tightness of her jaw.

He tried to feel anything other than embarrassed. But he couldn't.

It was true that he hated feeling cornered. Inappropriate. Inadequate.

But mostly he just hated seeing her feel for him. This look she'd get as if the world wore him wrong.

 _It's nothing, mom_ , his downcast eyes said.

But she knew better.

_Anyway, my feet hurt and I think we ate too much candy- let's call it off an-_

_Scott_ , tone so gentle.

_Not here, mom. Please._

It's nothing.

Suddenly the day turning into night was all he could think of.

Their time was over.

They had to get back to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm sorry.
> 
> Thank you for reading, though :)
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if we disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your reading!

As a kid, she would hide inside her mom's closet.

Her big, smooth dresses and coats caressing her skin.

Engulfed in it, smothered by it.

The closet had had a big mirror, in which her mom would admire herself, adjust her make up and her hair-style.

All she wore nowadays was an ugly sleeping gown and a pained semblance.

It changed everything; this lack of beauty.

Not that her mom had been their ray of sunshine, or their source of happiness.

True is she'd never been a smiling woman.

But she had been beautiful in all her glory, and the house had even smelled better at her stunning presence.

It also broke them completely. Any resemblance of unity vanished.

This- it. Her illness.

Her father bore the weight of a practically widower, and she and her brother already considered it.

Death.

She wished she could say it loomed over them, that it made them sad or depressed. But it didn't.

It changed everything, except their lives.

Deals were still made, names were still called.

Her brother would still drive around town whenever he came back from college, picking up girls and showing them his gear.

Isaac still hid her true colors inside her ribs.

Also, her dad still acted as if her sole existence affronted his.

The ghosts still haunted her.

At the end of the day, she was still split.

One mess of two. Inside and outside.

\--

It was as if her mother wasn't there anymore.

Her bedroom locked. Its lights either off or too dimmed to be made from the outside.

The only reminder being the nurse and her son, who were now part of their furniture.

Now part of their walls. Part of Isaac's prison. Her mom's tomb.

Except they- they weren't.

_She saw them._

Sliding around the carpet, the hallways, closing doors and whispering greetings to whomever. 

The mother's voice was sharp, the boy's was soft.

Yet they were both heard on the same frequency.

Their presence echoed throughout the concrete. It reverberated.

They were felt as if real. Individuals inside her microsphere.

Red points amongst neutral colors.

She saw them.

But unfortunately, so did everybody else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in 20 minutes so I'm like 80% not sure of it but- the 20% is really persistent. And I really wanted to show this side of the story. Hope you've enjoyed it :)
> 
> Take care,
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


End file.
